


antitrust

by SerpentineJ



Category: Money Game | 머니게임 (TV)
Genre: M/M, YEA.. I HAVE BAD TASTE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22687828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: “You usually...” Heo Jae says, a sudden wave of something he’s loathe to call uncertainty sweeping through him. “You should resist, if I push you like this.”He doesn’t like the feeling. It feels like Chae Yihyun has completely gotten the upper hand. When had their positions reversed so drastically?He remembers making Yihyun wait half an hour for him in this exact room, just for the fun of it. He remembers going to visit Yihyun in the jail cell, for no reason other than to tell him he’d lost. He remembers pausing to watch him while he slept.It’s uncomfortable, so he pushes down his rising sickness.“Why should I?” Yihyun replies, in a voice so quiet Heo Jae might not have been able to hear him if they weren’t standing so close. He tilts his head downwards, eyes sliding towards Heo Jae’s, the contact making Heo Jae’s breathing stop. “When you’re revealing your own weaknesses.”
Relationships: Heo Jae/Chae Yihyun
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	antitrust

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: this is one of the BEST shows tvn has had on in a while for me.. which is not saying much bc i usually do not love tvn shows but. i really like this style of directing i actually had to look up and make sure it WASNT ahn gil ho or some other director whose work i liked bc it’s absolutely up my alley
> 
> anyways i cant get enough of heo/chae and YES i know heo literally MURDERED HIS FATHER . on god my taste is so bad

Heo Jae has grown sick of the taste of sashimi.

It reminds him of bought dinners and business meetings. He flips through the menu for the tenth time and decides firmly, like the other nine, not to order it. 

He checks his watch. Chae Yihyun is late. He supposes it’s within his right – the room Heo Jae had asked to meet him in is the same as the last time, in the restaurant of the Namsan Hotel, except this time it’s Heo Jae who needs to ask a favor.

His watch hand ticks past the seven minute mark. His fingers tap restlessly against the tabletop.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” a voice says from the doorway, a familiarly quiet tone. “Someone held me up on the way out of the office.”

“It’s fine.” Heo Jae says, breathing deeply. Yihyun is still standing at the entrance. Heo Jae lets his gaze slide over to him, from the corner of his eye, shadowed with soft light spilling from the alcove above. His broad shoulders are slightly bowed. It makes him look passive, when Heo Jae knows he’s anything but. 

He gestures at the seat in front of him.

“Sit down.” He says. His tone makes it sound like an invitation. It’s not. Even though he’s not strategically the one with the power in this situation, he’ll be damned if he gives up his authority.

Yihyun, ever-obliging, sits. His palm smooths over the front of his jacket. There’s snow in his hair, nearly melted. His cheeks are still pink from the freezing wind outside.

“Was there something,” Yihyun says, his voice unassuming, “you needed from me?”

Heo Jae nearly grits his teeth. 

“You know why I called you,” he gets out. He stares at him. Yihyun is looking carefully at the knot of Heo Jae’s expensive tie – at the words, his eyes finally flick upwards to meet his. There’s no spite in them. It sends a chill down Heo Jae’s spine, and he’s angry and drawn to them in equal measure.

“I’m sure I don’t,” Yihyun says with words. Tell me yourself, he says with silence, his gaze heavy on Heo Jae’s face. 

It’s almost a power trip. Heo Jae’s heart thumps once, sickeningly, sweeping the oxygen from his lungs.

He glares. Yihyun looks at him unsympathetically. If anything, he looks a little sad, but he always looks sad – it’s something about the downward slant of the corners of his eyes, the pinch of his mouth, the way his eyebrows furrow.

“I need you,” he bites out, “to tell Lee Hyejoon to stop digging into the Blue House.”

“And you know I won’t do that.” Yihyun says, resting his hands in his lap. “She believes in justice.”

“She believes in her own justice.” Heo Jae scoffs, leaning forward over the table. “You know the things she’s bringing up could cause the entire economy, if not the government, to collapse. The public’s trust in the institution would be destroyed. The country might take decades to recover.”

Yihyun spreads one palm across the tabletop. Despite all his extra responsibility as of late, it doesn’t seem like he’s changed at all, except in the shadows under his eyes, the endearing wrinkles of his crow’s feet advancing so far in only a month.

“But,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, one corner of his mouth ticking up in a slight smile, “still, I can’t do that.”

He gets up to leave. Heo Jae sits, frozen, as the scrape of Yihyun’s chair legs resonates in the floor under his feet. Yihyun turns away from him to tuck in his chair and face the door, taking one step – Heo Jae stands up in a rush, his seat clattering back against the wall, and stalks around the corner of the table, reaching out to fist one hand harshly in the front of Yihyun’s shirt, pushing him against the wall.

“You can't?” he breathes, voice tense.

He hates losing control. The anger floods through him – that he’s been demeaned to having to touch someone to enforce his will – it’s the same frustration that had pushed Professor Chae off that cliff. His heartbeat hammers in his chest.

Yihyun doesn’t even look surprised. He doesn’t resist. He looks down at Heo Jae’s knuckles on his chest, and then back up, to quietly meet Heo Jae’s eyes. His irises are lit by the warm light above, sharp cheekbones casting his skin into shadow.

He doesn’t say anything.

Heo Jae flexes his fingers in Yihyun’s shirt. His heart starts to creep up his throat. Yihyun simply stands there, between the wall and Heo Jae, his chest slowly rising and falling under Heo Jae’s hand.

“You usually...” Heo Jae says, a sudden wave of something he’s loathe to call uncertainty sweeping through him. “You should resist, if I push you like this.”

He doesn’t like the feeling. It feels like Chae Yihyun has completely gotten the upper hand. When had their positions reversed so drastically? 

He remembers making Yihyun wait half an hour for him in this exact room, just for the fun of it. He remembers going to visit Yihyun in the jail cell, for no reason other than to tell him he’d lost. He remembers pausing to watch him while he slept.

It’s uncomfortable, so he pushes down his rising sickness.

“Why should I?” Yihyun replies, in a voice so quiet Heo Jae might not have been able to hear him if they weren’t standing so close. He tilts his head downwards, eyes sliding towards Heo Jae’s, the contact making Heo Jae’s breathing stop. “When you’re revealing your own weaknesses.”

Heo Jae laughs. It’s more of a disbelieving snort, a breath expelled through his mouth, an incredulous quirk of his lips. He hates it the most when Yihyun acts submissive, bowing his head and deferring to him when they both know he doesn’t mean it, but that’s nothing compared to the dizzy thrill he gets when Yihyun looks at him – directly at him – and challenges him with that polite tone of voice.

He’s not young enough to call it infatuation, and not kind enough to call it attraction. The bridge of Yihyun’s nose is striking against his bold features. 

Heo Jae knows that he’s divorced, and has no one waiting for him at home. He’s done his research.

Research for what, he's not sure. They had seemed like important details while he had been poring over Yihyun's personnel file.

"My weaknesses?" Heo Jae says, hearing the defensive edge in his own voice and hating it. He's barely breathing. Short, shallow breaths leave him dizzy. "And what are those?"

Yihyun's gaze slides away from him, slick as ice and light like the flickering tip of a flame, coming to rest somewhere around his shoulder, irises the color of sparrow feathers. 

"I thought Bahama was more your type," he says, words quiet but ringing in the air between them as clearly as a bell through a summer night, and Heo Jae chokes on indignance. Hatred bubbles in his throat like bile. 

Eugene Han, despite his elegant appearance, is crass and temperamental. Yihyun is... not. 

Yihyun swallows. It's not a large movement, but they're so close together that Heo Jae's eyes are drawn towards it. 

His Adam's apple slides almost in slow motion under his skin. 

Heo Jae kisses him like biting into a sweet fruit. Yihyun doesn't respond - his broad chest is still under Heo Jae's fist, even as Heo Jae tries to force him to yield with his mouth. Yihyun always does the opposite of what Heo Jae wants him to, and this is no exception. Under the crush of Heo Jae's mouth, Yihyun's lips part in a slight exhale. He doesn't kiss back. He lets Heo Jae take whatever he wants from him.

It’s frustrating. Yihyun is the type to show every emotion on his face, but when he’s looking at Heo Jae, his constantly-changing expression smooths itself out, giving way to something complex and soft, even as he tells Heo Jae that they’re not the same. His unassuming demeanor – his gentle way of attacking – the way he still, even at his most rebellious, uses the highest honorifics to speak to him – it’s irritating, like an itch under Heo Jae’s skin, but endearing at the same time.

After a few moments, Heo Jae pulls away from him. He instantly regrets it, the loss of Yihyun’s warm lips against his, but for the sake of his pride he pulls back. His jaw tics with humiliation. Yihyun looks at him, mouth red and slightly swollen, the swell of his lower lip dark where Heo Jae knows he’s bitten it, with that complex look. 

Disgust rises up in Heo Jae’s stomach. Not for Yihyun but for himself.

“We’ll talk about this at a later time,” Heo Jae gets out past the lump in his throat, voice rough. He’s suddenly overtaken with the overwhelming urge to get as far from this room as possible. Yihyun looks at him through a fan of dark lashes, and Heo Jae swallows before he turns on his heel, blood roiling in his veins, and all but flees the room.

\--

They don’t talk about it later. Instead, Yihyun shows up at Heo Jae’s apartment, like he does whenever he wants to talk and doesn’t know what else to do. He never stays long. As usual, Heo Jae pours Yihyun a drink, and as usual, Yihyun shows an egregious disrespect for the price of his alcohol by taking it in one shot.

“Why are you here today?” Heo Jae says, after Yihyun has had a couple drinks. He knows better than to fall for Yihyun’s acting-inebriated. His alcohol tolerance is actually fairly high. 

A slight flush is beginning to rise to Yihyun’s cheeks.

Heo Jae takes a sip from his own cup. 

He likes it when Yihyun comes to him to drink. Yihyun is usually shockingly bad at hiding his emotions, but under pressure and in front of his superiors, it’s hard to get a read on his stony expression. When Yihyun drinks with him, he drops his guard a little, and Heo Jae gets the rare treat of hearing his true feelings face to face.

It’s an odd kind of balance they have fallen into. They’re still enemies, but they know each other as well as allies. There’s only one secret that Heo Jae is keeping from Yihyun, and it’s the one that could destroy both their strange camaraderie and his own life.

“The thing... that you asked me about, last time.” Yihyun says, speaking a little slower than usual. He drags one finger around the edge of his cup. Heo Jae’s eyes would be drawn to it if he could bring his gaze away from Yihyun’s face. The drink has wet his lips, and they shine darkly under the low lighting of Heo Jae’s living room.

Heo Jae’s blood begins to stir.

“What about it?” He says, holding his composure. He can be stiff and he can be angry in Yihyun’s presence – anything else is such a temptation that he risks losing himself completely. Yihyun makes a small noise as the alcohol works through his system, and he leans forward over the table, his broad shoulders stretching the crisp, thin cotton of his dress shirt.  
Heo Jae drinks again, mostly to distract himself. 

“I can’t stop her, but I’m worried about her,” Yihyun mumbles, holding out his cup for another drink. Heo Jae obliges. The soft clink of the glass bottle tapping against the lip of his glass resonates through both their bodies.

The air seems too warm - Heo Jae is glad for the chill of the soju, cooling his body from the inside. He's refilling his glass before he knows it. The last drops of the clear liquid slip into his cup, dripping down the side of the ceramic vessel.

He stands up and walks around the table, intending on getting another bottle from the refrigerator.

“Kiss me,” Yihyun says abruptly, laid out on the floor of the apartment. Heo Jae freezes in place.

“No,” he gets out after a moment. The words feel like they rasp against his throat. He looks out of the corner of his eye, down at Yihyun – for some reason, he’s afraid to turn and see him fully, as though that small act will kick-start his descent into madness. 

“Why not?” Yihyun says, pressing the fingertips of his right hand to his lips. Heo Jae’s mouth is dry. The sick feeling of desire in his stomach spreads through his blood, suffusing his flesh from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet – as though he can’t help it, he turns ever so slightly and looks.

Yihyun, beautiful, broad-shouldered and warm, his collar wrinkled beyond repair, framing the strong line of his thoat, is there. His hair is dark against the white tile floor. It feels like an image he’s not allowed to see – Yihyun looks up at him with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. Heo Jae can see his chest rising and falling with soft breathing. 

That rabid hunger starts to boil in him again, welling up through his throat like fire. His hand is shaking at his side. He curls it into a fist.

“You kissed me last time,” Yihyun continues, and a wave of hot humiliation floods through Heo Jae at the memory. 

“And?” Heo Jae says defiantly, steeling his resolve, pursing his lips. 

Yihyun frowns at him.

“And... He mumbles. He shifts his head against the tile, and props himself up on one elbow after a moment. His shirt collar peeks open – the side of his throat is fully exposed, a wide and solid stretch of skin, and Heo Jae fights the urge to sink his teeth into it. A sliver of sobriety comes back into his eyes, but Heo Jae is already too fixated to look away, even though he suddenly feels like a predator that’s been out-wiled by its prey. “I want you to protect Lee Hyejoon.”

Heo Jae scoffs.

“Why should I?” He says, tearing his gaze away from Yihyun’s neck, looking at his face instead. Not that it’s much better. His broad, straight jaw catches the light just as well as the dip of his throat where it disappears into the V of his collar.

Yihyun pulls himself up into a seat. It takes a moment – he wavers from the alcohol, but props himself up with his hand – he tucks his legs behind him, settling into a kneeling position, and inclines his head, steadying himself with his grip on his legs.

“Please,” he says, with a note of finality to his voice. It’s presumptive and gentle at the same time. Yihyun’s demure way of being bold makes the flame flare in Heo Jae’s chest again, almost like fury – this is the weakness that Yihyun had been talking about last time they had met. When Heo Jae had kissed him. Heo Jae’s jaw tics with the effort of restraining himself.

He takes a shallow breath to ground himself.

“Absolutely not.” He says, trying to inject as much vitriol into his voice as possible, though it comes out a little more choked than he would like. He feels lightheaded and red-faced. His composure is slipping from him with dizzying speed. “Do I look like that kind of person to you? A lowlife who would be swayed by a trade like that?”

Yihyun looks up at him. His lashes are dark, and the creases between his brows don’t look like they’ll ever smooth out. His mouth looks like the apple that lured mankind from the Garden of Eden.

“It’s not a trade.” He says, softly. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Heo Jae’s fraying control finally snaps.

It reminds him of the police station. Yihyun had looked up at him through the bars and spoken quietly to not rouse the rabble around him, and Heo Jae had knelt down to murmur words of warning to him. He presses their lips together, harsh and electric with his unending, hateful desire.

Yihyun lets out a noise that sounds awfully pleasurable. Heo Jae stiffens against him. The aftershocks of that quiet sound seem to reverberate through his body, seeping into his flesh and setting his nerve endings alight with excruciating fire – Yihyun kisses back, just barely, a soft pressure, and Heo Jae involuntarily lets a huff of air escape from his lungs as an uncontrollable desire takes root in his heart.

He grips Yihyun’s shoulder. His fingertips dig unforgivingly into the muscle beneath his crepe-thin dress shirt. Yihyun's back hits the ground with a heavy sound, and Heo Jae hisses against his mouth, following him so he's leaning over his prone form. His hand slides from Yihyun's shoulder to his neck, pressing on soft skin laid over strong tendons.

It's been ages since he's done this. He hasn't had a romantic tryst for years. Yihyun is much more than a tryst - he's a ticking time bomb. He's a blade pointed straight at Heo Jae's chest.

Heo Jae bites at his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: really LVOE how heo jae always seems to be on tenterhooks around yihyun .. theyre both SO stupid ..


End file.
